Never Enough
by Angelfirenze
Summary: He felt guilt and pain for those he had murdered when he'd had no reason, no rhyme. Protecting his children, however, was a different matter altogether.
1. Unraveling

**Never Enough**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** Whedon owns all. Small nod to the movie, _Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist_. The Exies. "Ugly.". Head for the Door, 2004.

**Summary:** He felt guilt and pain for those he had murdered when he'd had no reason, no rhyme. Protecting his children, however, was a different matter altogether.

**Notes:** I just don't think there are enough Angel-centered Firefly stories and then an idea hit me so I'm going with it. The only thing I'm changing is that Angel didn't stake Sam at the end of 'Why We Fight'. I'll just leave it at that. ANGEL: After the Fall is canon, as well, though Angel found something to be vastly different once he'd forced Wolfram and Hart to turn the clock back...

Part I: Unraveling

Angel was watching the captain of the ship help his crew stow their various contraband onboard and desperately wanted to take hold of Sam's hand to keep him from falling away into his memories. It was so difficult to tell when these...Connor called them 'mental health days' but Angel could never see anything healthy about them.

That didn't matter, however. What mattered was that he and Connor get Sam onboard this ship and contained before the 'day' happened. It was bad enough they had to keep him tranquilized most of the time or he'd squirm out from underneath his blankets and get himself burned in one of the now-many sunlights.

Angel forced himself to stop thinking and simply concentrate. The captain was speaking to them all about where they were allowed on the ship and Angel could hear him, but he knew Connor's own mind had to be wandering by now. The trip away from Jianying had been hard on him, bringing up long-buried memories of Quor'Toth that Angel would have given anything to erase once more.

He'd give anything for his boys and this wasn't anything different.

Connor had scrubbed his hands raw after they'd managed to find a way to Persephone, crying all the while because he couldn't get the stench of Quor'Toth back out of his soul. He insisted that once Cordy died, once Wes smashed the Orlon Window, everything holding all his darkness away from him came rushing back and he'd had to fight, to hunt. Fighting was in his very blood.

Angel watched over both of his sons but never let either of them know he took care of each in turn.

_Money, it's no cure -- a sickness so pure...Are you like me? Are you ugly?_

It was always dark out in space where there was no world to turn and tell them what or when time was. Connor slept so little, but it was better than Sam, who barely ever did. Angel gave Sam his wrists to save the passengers on ships, but that wasn't enough. He'd managed to smuggle a cache of live rabbits from Jianying that Connor had caught, but Sam could go through as many as five in one sitting.

It was lucky they mated so often. As long as Angel could keep Sam from eating two, the supply would eventually be replenished. For that to happen, he had to force Sam to sleep or gag him and chain him to the bed.

Being in the brig, his Sam called it and Angel couldn't blame him.

There was the sound of someone stomping back past their room and Connor was immediately glued to the window as the one who reminded them all of Hamilton -- Angel had almost broken Connor's hand forcing him not to kill this mysterious bastard on sight (Dress for Less, Connor called him and Angel had remembered instantly why, his guard already raised and now hard as steel) and simply guided them into their room -- but Angel managed to pull him back before Connor could get the door open.

It was going to be a very long several days.

Angel awoke suddenly to find Connor gone and Sam laughing at the open doorway. Cursing himself, Angel quickly grabbed a shirt and threw it on, dashing out into the ship and following Connor's scent.

It was only a moment before Angel could see Connor perched in perfect balance on one of the banisters above what appeared to be a very confusing scene.

The captain was torn between glancing upward at Connor, who was staring down at everyone, and the large box of cryogenically frozen human flesh (Angel could now see it was the form of a girl) the young doctor had brought on board.

The girl awoke suddenly, screaming, and Connor leapt down to the ground floor, Angel just behind him, as the doctor -- Simon, Angel believed he was called -- insisted he needed to check her vitals.

"River," Connor said quietly and the doctor froze, his eyes wide as he stared at Angel's son.

"H-how did you know that? Who are you? Are you from the Academy?"

Connor only snorted, a secret hidden in his subsequent laugh. Angel fought the urge to tear something apart. So Sam, Connor, and River had been trapped together in that thrice-damned place.

When he'd found them, Angel had known at once why Connor and Sam had both disappeared all those years ago. They'd likely wanted to know why a boy from Earth-That-Was, over five hundred years old, didn't look a day over sixteen. Why a man not much older seemed as dead as they on the inside, but not quite so much.

The Academy had been the only place Angel felt confident and clear-headed about letting Sam and Connor run free. They'd been used as test subjects, his boys, and Angel had simply watched, the demon in him reveling as his boys had taken their pound of flesh from every monstrous soul they'd come across.

From there, Angel had taken them to Jianying, intent on getting to Persephone, but he hadn't counted on the Snatchers. They'd wanted Sam for his leadership abilities, probably. Connor for his hunting. The Snatchers hadn't lasted more than five minutes before his sons were free again, and their leader not ten seconds after Angel, himself, had gotten a hold of him.

He felt guilt and pain for those he had murdered when he'd had no reason, no rhyme. Protecting his children, however, was a different matter altogether.

Angel snapped himself back to the scene at hand and watched as Connor ignored the guns trained on him now, bending down and staring directly into River's eyes, the pair of them each so alike. Neither spoke, River no longer rambling.

"What the hell is this?" The captain asked and Simon, perched beside the box and dividing his time equally between his visual examinations of both River and Connor, looked up at him, still stroking River's hair as Angel, himself, walked up.

Ignoring the guns immediately trained upon himself, Angel gave Connor a mildly chastising look and gently pulled him a little further back from River, though he let go when Connor screamed and began to cry, River reaching for him, silent tears trailing down her face.

"I gather she's yours?" Angel asked Simon, who nodded. "My sister."

Angel nodded, frowning slightly as he wrapped his arms protectively around Connor's shoulders and listened to Sam's laughter clearly from his hold.

"One of my sons. The Academy?"

"Yes, they -- "

"Okay, what the hell is goin' on here, I believe I asked that already," the captain snapped, angry at losing control of the situation.

Angel sighed, "You care to do your honors, doctor? Mine are going to take a bit more time and some effort on your parts."

Simon nodded carefully, sensing there was something extremely dangerous about this man, but for some reason tying it directly to the equally dangerous boy in his careful, yet gentle embrace, and another he'd caught glimpses of, but nothing more.

With that, Angel switched his dominant hold on Connor with long practice and helped Simon lift River from the box. The Companion, Inara, Angel had heard her name to be, quickly wrapped River's naked body in her robe and Angel and Simon then steered each of their charges into the infirmary.

Angel held Connor's hand as he was given another tranquilizer and led off into a safer, dreamless place. Simon had already done so for River, both of them unwillingly ignoring both their charges' whimpering protests. The captain demanded answers and it seemed it was up to Angel and Simon to give them.

Angel hoped they wouldn't be away too long, or Connor and River unconscious too long.

His youngest, he knew, hated to dream.

...TBC...


	2. Seanachai

**Never Enough**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** Whedon owns all. Seether, Amy Lee. "Broken.". The Punisher, 2004.

**Summary:** Mal, unsure of what to make of Angel at all, backed away slightly and balled his fists, itching to...he wasn't sure what.

"There a point to any of this ramblin' you keep doin' and talkin' about?"

Angel sighed again, turning to face the Black outside the nearest window. "The point, captain, is that I and my sons -- and River, too -- are lost and I don't want you to join us."

**Notes:** Wow, this one was hard to write. Huh.

Part II: Seanachai

_...The worst is over now and we can breathe again...I want to hold you high and steal my pain away..._

"I just have to keep her safe."

Simon's voice wended away and he suddenly remembered he was on a ship full of people -- particularly a very dangerous if kind man who was waiting his own turn. Simon didn't know why he felt this...Angel...man was kind, but he got the impression that he would much more likely use his _talents_, whatever they were, protecting than harming. Giving his head a slight shake, Simon brought himself fully back to his senses and allowed Angel his own turn.

The taller man stood, apparently wondering where to begin yet seemingly already knowing. It was a confusing air this man gave off, and Simon would have believed he did it almost deliberately if he hadn't witnessed the man's own slight awkwardness for himself.

Taking a deep breath of his own, Angel let his lower lip push the upper into a show of bemusement before giving up and simply diving in, "How many of you know what a vampire is?"

Silence.

"Slayer?"

Again, no one raised their hands or spoke.

Angel sighed in irritation and tried one last time, "Demon?"

The Shepherd was the only one who readily responded and, then, only hesitantly. Angel had a feeling his only 'exposure' was within the pages of the Bible he'd studied.

Sighing, Angel let a large breath of air blow out of his mouth and forced himself to continue, "Earth-That-Was wasn't the idyllic place the encyclopedias like to paint now, only talking about how people used up all its resources and then we had to leave. It was more difficult than that, more complex. The Devil always knew the world would be his again in time and the simple matter, as the Shepherd knows, is that he took it back -- he and his acolytes, the Old Ones with the exception of a very small number -- that number being two -- four, if you count the goddess Svea and the god-king, Aurelius, the last two are still in the Deeper Well, as far as I know. We can't go back because the _Old Ones_ there would destroy every human they came into contact with.

"But the point is that people fought for their lives then, just as they do now. I and everyone I know made it our business to try and even the playing field as best I could but, in the end, it didn't matter. With the exception of my sons, everyone I love is either gone or scattered far across this great black sky, their spirits either broken, near about, or hardened to the strength of a fortress. All of this being mentally, of course. Their bodies are mostly long gone -- it's what happens when you're a human being, after all -- most of the time...I'm getting away from myself and for that I apologize. I know you, in particular, Captain, are as impatient as I once was. When I was fully human."

"What?" Mal spoke up, then, his face the picture of a man itching for a fight.

Angel sighed again, nearly rolling his eyes before he frowned at the captain. "I know you heard me. Let me get this out in the open so there are no surprises. I was born in the year 1727. I am -- counting all the time I spent in various dimensions, being tortured -- over a thousand years old, collectively. But for practicality's sake, let's keep it at around seven hundred fifty-nine. My sons -- born in 2002 and 1922 --are respectively five hundred and eighty-four and five hundred and -- well, do I count his time in the Quor'Toth dimension? It _is_ the reason he's a teenager, after all. Five hundred and twenty years and five months. I make it a point to know and remember his birthday because I never got to celebrate his first. And because his mother never even got to see him."

Angel took a deep breath and forced himself to continue once more, "He -- Connor was taken from me and raised in Hell, which is part of why he acts the way he does. He was raised there by a demon hunter who hated myself and his mother -- with good reason, at the time, being the 1700's -- more than any other vampires, which again leads me to wonder if you know that word, as well, and trained my son to be a killer. Connor's title in that dimension was 'The Destroyer' -- the demons there named him that because he slaughtered so many of their kind and was nearly indestructible -- and I'm sure you'll be able to see evidence of that should we ever encounter anything looking to hurt any humans.

"Sam, on the other hand -- Samuel Lawson Angel, he asked to take my name like his brother long ago and while I felt it was something he shouldn't have had to do at the time, he was insistent. He's my son, after all -- he has a fragment of some sort of my own soul within himself to this day and no other vampire I ever sired had been so after my soul was returned. I know I'm confusing and frightening the lot of you and for that I apologize, but I really don't see any other choice but complete honesty no matter the consequence. I learned that lesson very, very painstakingly."

Angel frowned deeply, clenching his eyes shut before turning to Simon, who was staring at him in utter fright by now, but not moving away, for which Angel was thankful. "Do you have one of those encyclopedias?"

"You just said it don't matter none," the captain interjected roughly, finally giving into his obvious ill-ease and getting up to stalk over to Angel and grab him by the throat, slamming him back against the far wall of the ship while Zoe followed his lead and aimed a gun at him. Angel heard Hamilton's look-alike cursing himself for not bringing the gun Angel had smelled called 'Vera' and the Shepherd made some more noise about Angel not having done anything to harm them but apparently had noticed Angel's utter lack of protest.

"You're looking to kill me, able and willing to do so -- that's good. Very good, except that bullets don't harm me, they just piss me off. Same for Sam, I should add...bullets...It wouldn't matter anyway, everything the Shepherd was taught about destroying demons -- stakes of wood to the heart, holy water, crosses, sunlight...those are potentially fatal to Sam, but never Connor and no longer I. They hurt like hell, but I just keep healing."

Angel managed to dig a hand into his shirt and removed the cross he'd worn since he found Buffy's body, broken and spent of blood that day in Romania. He'd given it to her so long ago and she'd never taken it off...the Claddagh rings he wore on his left ring fingers were the same. Poetic justice hadn't begun to cover it. His tears were long gone, but his heart was raw and would forever be. He accepted that. He would never truly be alive and that suited him just fine. He knew he deserved it and always would.

"They no longer effect me in that way. In light of this remedial course in how to destroy that which walks among you," Angel continued, watching Captain Reynolds' face even as the human continued to hold Angel several inches off the ground. "I will tell you that, no, I'm not here to hurt anyone, what the hell would be the point in that? Everyone always thought there was a point to what I did, even when I was a soulless monster, destroying everyone I came across. They're wrong.

"My youngest tells me that I'm quite the philosopher and I don't hold that against him. Even when I was human, I questioned things and thought them over far too much for my father's liking. He wanted just to marry me off and be done with it. But depression at the state of my life and, seemingly, my future rather got in the way of that."

Angel paused, looking at the floor, his face contemplative and for all the worlds looking as though he weren't still being held captive.

Then he continued, his manner completely unaffected by the circumstances, "Another thing I'll tell you, as if you didn't already know -- I have a habit of rambling. I've fought it off and on all these many years but, in the end, I guess I'm going to have to give into it. Even when I killed, it was never because I hated anyone or had any grievance against them. You may find, should you ever go near him, which I don't advise without weaponry, that Sam can't either. He told me, himself. _'I felt nothing. Sixty years of blood drying in my throat like ashes. You kept me trapped between who I was and who I should be -- I'm nothin'. Because of you.'"_

Mal stepped back, shock coming to cover his features as he watched Angel slide to the floor and begin to take deep, breaths, tears now falling down the...demon's...face despite his obvious efforts to hold in his pain.

Mal was completely at a loss and could tell without looking that Zoe, Wash, and Jayne were, as well.

"The night I killed my son...I'll spare you the details and simply let you know that was my fault, as well. I wasn't the father I should have been because I couldn't let go of what I'd lost. I couldn't see what I now --then ha. Doesn't matter. He told me -- Connor, I mean..._'Guess I really am your son. 'Cause I'm dead, too.'_ But all that's truly in the past -- "

"Don't much seem like it," Mal said quietly, watching Angel still in his hand with a strange sense of...he wasn't sure what, but he knew, whatever he said, he couldn't truly bring himself to harm Angel.

The vampire -- man, whatever -- continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "What matters now is that I let you know that I didn't find my sons until after Simon had gotten River onto Persephone. I made it a point to take advantage of the analysts or whatever they were's confusion and the fact that they were worried about what the Alliance was going to do to them. I slipped in and killed the bastards poking holes in my sons' hearts and minds and I let them have their fill of death and violence."

Angel was completely calm by now, taking in their expressions as they realized what that meant.

"Your sons are vampires," Simon caught on first and everyone else, with the exception of Jayne, who was still on the part where Angel walked into the Alliance all, 'la-de-dah'.

At these words, he started violently and backed up against the opposite wall, not understanding why Angel -- the vampire was glaring at him with death obviously on his mind.

Then the vampire paused, watching Jayne for a moment, before he seemed to realize something and, his right eyebrow raised, gave his head a small shake and swiped at his own mouth with his thumb. "You really are full of it," they all heard him mutter before he exhaled sharply again and this time looked at Zoe, whose eyes widened and she aimed her gun at his heart.

"A shot to the heart'll piss you off plenty?" Zoe asked calmly, but Angel simply continued to stare at her.

"You look just like her -- same goes for him...both of you look like them, but I know you're not. Mal -- you look like Caleb...we fought, then. But you're just people. Souls hale and...well, not so hearty."

Jayne's eyes widened and he shrunk back into his chair, "Mal, you sure'n this monster ain't to be locked up wherever that other crazy hwun dan gua is?"

Angel growled ferociously, his eyes glowing golden even as his face remained largely of human countenance. Mal pressed his other hand to Angel's chest, holding him more firmly even as he looked backward at Jayne with an irritated scowl, but not allowing anyone to see his disturbance at the vibration Angel's entire body had made with that gale of a growl just then.

"I'm thinkin', Jayne -- that Angel, here, might not -- take too kindly to your thoughts on -- his two beloved critters -- so I'd steer clear'a him if'n you care to -- live much longer."

Then Mal turned back to Angel and got as closely in his face as he dared, "In the meantime, however, I'll let you know I ain't at all adverse to puttin' ya out the airlock the next rock we see, so you'll keep your hands to yourself when it comes to my crew, dong ma?"

Angel turned away from Jayne and concentrated on Mal, "I understand. I don't care what you do to me anymore than Simon does -- Connor, Sam, and River are our only concerns in that regard. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep my sons safe. I owe them that much.

"As for Jayne, yourself, Zoe, they...you three just remind me -- and Connor -- of demonic entities we met back then, on Earth-That-Was...shared your faces. Bad memories, even worse stains on our hands. I can tell the difference, but I'm not entirely sure Connor cares. I'll keep him away from you all until he can."

"You make sure you do that," Mal agreed, finally stepping back to let Angel get to his feet, momentarily taken aback when Angel did so with completely unnatural grace and agility. "You were out in the sun when you were on Persephone."

Angel frowned but nodded, "When the Old Ones and others took over Earth-That-Was, the entirety of Los Angeles -- a city, explaining much more wouldn't do any good -- to Hell for what spanned a moment for the rest of the world, but over six months for those of us trapped inside. Long story short, they'd killed and tortured my family, my friends -- Connor was murdered by one of them, in turn because he -- Charles Gunn had gone mad, but then they turned back the clock because they couldn't afford me dead.

"I've been a big part of plans for entities grander than I for millenia, as has Connor, but that's neither here nor there because Connor fulfilled his destiny already and I died in Hell and they turned everything back the way it was -- except that when they did, they realized that since a prophecy I'd denied never got filed, it couldn't be undone. When they made me human, it had been to weaken me at the moment I needed my abilities most.

"Since the blood oath on it had never been processed, but things couldn't go forward as planned, they were forced to make a compromise with themselves -- I could feel their anger even as they disappeared into the ether, but there was nothing to laugh at -- and allow the prophecy to come to pass. The choirs of the devil were forced to make a deal with those of God."

Mal held up his hand, ready to still Angel's talk of God and such, but Angel's chuckle stopped him. "I assure you, Captain, this is more troubling for the shepherd than it is for you or me. I'm well aware God and the Devil can't interfere in our lives -- at least not directly. They allow our baser natures to do their work for them because walking here -- or, rather, on any planet -- would destroy it. Earth-That-Was is proof enough of that.

"I know God isn't welcome on your ship but if it makes you feel any better, I'm still unsure after all this time whether I, myself, am welcome in His house and I know perfectly well that my youngest is and eldest isn't.

"The shepherd can know and believe what he likes but the religion of my heritage -- which I still cling to no matter how much it's repelled me in the past -- never helped me when I was human because it wasn't time for God to interfere on my behalf. Things had to unfold as they did. I won't ask you to believe anything but I do agree with him that you should try to have faith in something, anything at all even if it's just that your ship is in the air and still on her feet when she lands, because without that, you're lost."

Mal, unsure of what to make of Angel at all, backed away slightly and balled his fists, itching to...he wasn't sure what.

"There a point to any of this ramblin' you keep doin' and talkin' about?"

Angel sighed again, turning to face the Black outside the nearest window. "The point, captain, is that I and my sons -- and River, too -- are lost and I -- we don't want you to join us."

"Got no intention on it," Mal agreed, the itch in his soul getting stronger and not understanding why. "What makes you think I would?"

"I just have a feeling you wouldn't mind it sometimes. Maybe then things would be smooth for once."

Mal backed away now, almost as unnerved as Jayne. "What are you? What're you really?"

Angel turned back around, a wistful smile on his face, "I haven't the faintest idea, captain. That's a question I'm not sure can be answered anymore. I didn't even know what I was when I was human."

"You keep saying that, but you've -- " Simon interjected, suddenly surging forward to take hold of Angel's wrist, his eye on his wristwatch. "You have a pulse...albeit, you seem to be in -- "

"Chronic bradycardia," Angel said quietly, his smile becoming a muffled frown again, his breath wet in his throat. "It doesn't beat nearly as fast as it should, even when I'm at a dead run. I believe if you were to hook me up to your monitors, you'd also find that despite the oxygen deprivation, my body functions well above what it should be able to for the air it's not getting.

"I do need to eat, and need blood only once a month. Once a week or so for food -- I find that I have a preference for what I ate when I was fully human, though protein supplements work just fine. I can get blood on just about any planet we land on -- the moons are more difficult, unless it's somewhere where the settlers aren't very hospitable in the 'slavery' sort of way. Them I kill, obviously."

"It's interestin' to me as of how calm you speak of all this killin', what with your apparent fondness for the preacher there," Mal tried to be a smart-ass, but knew he wasn't intimidating Angel none and that bothered him far more than he liked.

Angel sighed and finally stepped completely away from Mal, pulling his sleeves down and straightening his collar once more. He didn't bother to tuck his shirt in because there was no use but everything else had a soothing effect.

"Malcolm Reynolds. Mal. Latinate for 'evil, foul, bad' -- in a few words. I am Angelus, The One with the Angelic Face. Sire of the Destroyer and while Sam never earned himself a title, he spilled enough blood for everyone on this ship in their whole lifetimes with the exception of his brother and I -- Master of the Order of Aurelius -- hence my use of 'Aurelius' as our last name when we registered with Kaylee and got onboard. Connor's legal last name, and Sam's that he took once he found that out, is actually my name that I eventually took for myself when my soul was restored. Angel. Still, you're nothing on us and we wouldn't want you to be. Don't try.

"When I was human, I was Liam, though there are none alive to call me that anymore. It means 'Protector' and I don't take that lightly in case you haven't noticed. The God-King I mentioned was the one my Grandsire -- Joseph Heinrich Nest's -- Order worshiped as their originator when the Old Ones originally left Earth-That-Was when it was time for Man to come. As far as the rules say, I'm Aurelius' acolyte, though the only time I act the part is when my soul has been taken from me. You won't have to worry about that. My true happiness is dead and dust. There's no chance for Angelus to ever walk the worlds again."

"I'm confused, is anyone else confused?" That was Wash. Angel found he liked the young pilot very much, despite his resemblance to Xander in certain respects.

"As I said earlier, my sincerest apologies. Simon thought on it earlier when Shepherd Book asked him why he picked Serenity, decided it looked 'disreputable'."

Simon's eyes widened, as did everyone else's, but Angel only continued, seemingly oblivious to their reactions, though Simon had a suspicion he was nothing of the sort.

Sure enough, Angel looked at him and said, "Sam and I have very good hearing, Simon. Connor does, too, which you might want to keep in mind. But 'disreputable'...my reasons are the opposite. I'm not trying to attach myself or anyone I care about to anything bright and overwhelming in its sterility. You won't understand my reasons why, but I couldn't expect you to. This ship is clean in a way the Alliance will never be -- honesty.

"And cleanliness hides things even better than grit. The Alliance has proven that a thousand times over. Of course, as the same friend who restored my youngest son's soul to his previous innocent state once said, 'You put something alive in this hellhole and it'll die like that.' I believe that'd be an accurate description for the Academy, yes?"

Angel's brown eyes had darkened to near black at these words and Mal steeled himself even as Simon balled his own fists and fought the sudden urge to punch something.

"Seems like it," were Mal's only words. He'd been ready to make all kinds of comments about what a bunch of pitiful folk they were, but Angel was nothing of the sort -- something deep inside Mal that he'd never admit existed said that Angel scared him something awful in a way even Reavers never could...because he understood Mal better than even his own crew, better than Zoe, and he hated it -- and when he'd opened his mouth, he'd found all he could do was close it and leave for the infirmary, Simon and Angel behind him, the crew and Shepherd Book left confounded in their wake.

...TBC...

Translations:

_seanachai_: 'storyteller'  
_hwun dan gua_: 'bastard demon'  
_dong ma_: 'understand'


	3. Paranoia

**Never Enough**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** Whedon owns all. Fall Out Boy. "I Don't Care.". Folie à Deux, 2009.

**Summary:** Angel didn't let on that this was in the previous century. There was no point.

**Notes:** This one got put on the back-burner by my muse for a bit. It seems to be back for the time being.

**Notes, cont'd:** The Magdalene Asylums were initially refuges to assist and rehabilitate women, particularly in Ireland, but also in other countries including the United States, who had engaged in prostitution or suffered sexual abuse of any kind.

They increasingly turned into punitive sorts of prisons where 'fallen' women who had borne children out of wedlock through means of 'indiscretion' or rape were forced to do hard labor, most often laundry for long hours and never allowed to see any children who resulted from their 'affairs'. The last Lady Magdalene laundry closed in the Republic of Ireland in 1996.

Paranoia

Mal leaned irritably up against the counter as he watched Doctor Tam examine both River and Connor in their sleep. He glared at Angel again, once more bothered when he didn't get much of a response from the apparently ancient man.

"You know," he said irritably, unaccountably disturbed as he watched Angel lean over and stroke Connor's hair away from his brow before kissing it. "As much of an explanation as you pretended to give us about your boys there, you really didn't and it's startin' to get on my nerves. Doc explained about his sister - you said my ship was honest and as long as you're on it, that'll include you and I don't care how old you are, _dong ma_?"

"I do keep dancing around it, don't I?" Angel asked lightly, thoroughly dismissing Mal's attempt to threaten him and, thus, angering the captain further, which Angel noticed, though his face remained contemplative.

"Point: Sam is a vampire with his soul returned to him - I arranged for that before Los Angeles fell so it was still in place when Hell on Earth That Was came to our doors and when the door was slammed shut. It - Sam's soul - remains there to this day.

"Point: Connor is my biological son who shouldn't be alive except that God - you'll leave me to my beliefs, captain, and I'll leave you to yours. Yes, his mother was another vampire - my sire - ah, the vampire who made me...a vampire. Darla.

"She and I had an interesting talk about that that's...actually probably not very interesting to anyone but Shepherd Book, but...she damned me, just as surely as she'd damned herself. But...she gave her life for our son. Connor. She died to save his life the night he was born."

Mal, on the point of interrupting, snapped his mouth shut, a glare on his face and his heart thudding for reasons he honestly didn't understand. Angel had made it a point to seem as non-threatening as possible to him and his, so what the hell was up all of a sudden that he couldn't get a word in on his own ship, nor assert his own rules without being brought low and Angel was doing it again and again and all he felt about it was a schoolboy's gorram shame? That didn't damned well make sense.

He avoided looking at Kaylee's face right now, knowing her feelings almost as well as he knew Zoe's. She would be heartbroken to hear Connor's origins and wouldn't bother hiding it none.

But Angel was talking again and Mal found himself strangely compelled to listen, " - God wouldn't waste a promise made in earnest. I earned a life so when his mother couldn't use it, it was given to him. He's human except for demonic strength, healing, reflexes - apparently he can't age past sixteen, either, though being in the Quor'Toth dimension poisoned his body so much that now that he's out of that cesspool, his mind has taken up the slack, though I doubt it would have again if the Alliance hadn't gotten a hold of him."

Angel sighed very heavily and Mal and Simon could both feel over a thousand years of weight within that soft expulsion of air, but Mal fought not to let it affect him.

"I can _feel_ everything that's been done to them, I just don't know what it was. My body is non-specific about anything other than them hurting. And Connor and Sam hurting, I cannot abide peacefully or no."

Angel had gotten a haircut on Persephone and now ran his hands through his once-again short hair, feeling as though he did when he first reached the shores of New York so long ago. He had to find his ground, now, and try to stand on it.

"Point: Sam was already suffering even before his soul was returned - I...my soul...when I turned him, I had my soul, so a fragment of it was given to him. We share souls just like my youngest does with his mother...when she was pregnant with him, his soul suffused her, gave her a conscience she didn't have otherwise. But Sam..."

Angel ran his hand over his hair again and frowned, remembering that day as clearly as any other, just like always. "He...Sammy begged me for a mission - to kill him, but I couldn't...I couldn't keep the promise I'd made sixty years before - so I decided to use Wolfram and Hart's - I know those words mean nothing to you - resources to pull his soul out of the ether and give it back to him."

Angel's face became forlorn but resolute, "I damned myself again - or so I thought - because I played God just as the Romany gypsies - ancient tribe, long gone - no point in explaining now - who cursed me did, except that my intent wasn't that of revenge, but of salvation. Perhaps that's why he's never lost it."

Angel sighed, "I took him to see a friend of my mate's - my wife, she's dead, I don't want to talk about it - and he was able to tell me that Sam's soul is not in the precarious position the gypsies left mine in because I never wanted him to suffer. The same actually went for me by then, and I was surprised that he told me that because he hated me, except that my mate and another of our friends - the one who restored mine the second time - threatened him with certain _torture_ if he didn't tell the truth that time."

Angel didn't let on that this was in the previous century. There was no point.

"The innocence in Connor's soul was destroyed by the man who raised him instead of me. Then, further by the...thing...whose face your first mate and best friend resembles through no fault of hers. Connor put his fist through her skull and then tried to kill himself and twelve other people after taking them hostage."

Angel continued to stroke Connor's hair, never once looking in the captain or Simon's directions, even as he knew he caught Simon up short. "I did it for him and then I had his memories and past rewritten. This was undone later by my best friend, Wes, who made a presumption based on my mistaken belief that what they didn't know couldn't hurt them - I have a long track record with that, hence my words earlier about the truth and my adherence to it now.

"Still, hopefully, I can bring him back to where he was on Earth That Was, after all of that. My best friend - not him, her name was Cordelia - was able to detox him of all the horrors of that place, but another of my best friends - the one I was just talking about - accidentally opened them all back up again out of a mistake."

Angel frowned now, infinitely saddened, "Sometimes Connor's able to escape them, others he thinks he's back there - killing because it kept him alive. The demons in that place called him 'The Destroyer' and that's who he becomes. That's who you saw when he was up on that scaffold.

"Right now - and just as soon as he landed down in front of River and they communicated, sharing each other's sorrows - he's asleep. He's just Connor. I-I need to go get his hockey jersey. He likes to sleep in it and Willow - she put a spell on it so it would never fall apart..."

Angel carefully turned toward the exit, but Mal got in his way. He sighed and forced himself to be patient.

"Yeah?" Mal challenged, visually fed up with Angel's adept ability to set up camp under his skin and bother the _go se_ out of him like a damned tick. Angel would have smiled if he didn't feel like crying all the time now. "Well, you still haven't answered what the hell _you_ are - "

Angel turned around and opened his mouth, but Mal cut him off. "Yeah, you listed all kinds of titles, but you never said _WHAT. YOU. ARE._"

Angel's calm demeanor still failed to change and Mal felt himself growing yet angrier, until he - fed up - snarled, "Soon as we stop on Whitefall, you and yours are gettin' the hell off my ship."

"I paid your mechanic fare for myself and my sons for however long we want to stay on this ship. Unless you give us that money back, we're not going anywhere." Angel's tone, in turn, while still calm, didn't allow for discussion. "And even if you do, I doubt either of them would go without my say so and, even then, not without a fight - which I don't want and I _know_ my youngest doesn't want."

Trevor Lockley's only words to him came back yet again, as they often did these last five hundred and some odd years and now he repeated them to Mal, his voice quiet and wistful.

"You got any kids, Mal?"

Mal obviously resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I assure you, _Angel_, if I had any runnin' around the ship, you'd never miss 'em."

Angel took this in, expecting as much, "Then don't try to tell me how a father feels or why he does the things he does. A loving, if misguided man told me that once. I didn't have any children at the time, myself, and said as much. I didn't understand desperation until I looked in my son's eyes and tried to convince him he had things to live for, that he had family and friends who loved him - that his life had only just started, but he was right. I just wasn't there before. I missed sixteen years of his life - his first steps and words, his - well, I suppose this only would have mattered since he was my son - his first kill. I couldn't comfort him or reassure him.

"I highly doubt the son of a bitch who raised him ever did much of either, no matter what he said. I know it felt foreign to him as it had to me at his age. Different circumstances but the result was the same - he just wanted to stop fighting. Stop feeling alone. I didn't understand horror until my other son had my best friends trussed up with double-aught wire, gagged and helpless, his eyes looking into mine - _Come on, chief_...

"Don't underestimate me, captain, I picked your ship for a reason, and it may be yours, but you won't be the one who gets us off it."

Angel frowned further and wheeled around, followed by both Simon's exclamation of shock and Mal's loud swearing.

Sam was leaning in the door jamb, his boyish grin on his face full of pain that Angel easily recognized from the moment Sam had been Sired.

"It gets funnier every time you tell it, Chief. I always wonder if I'll stop being amused, but - every damned time."

"Sam," Angel said quietly, adopting the same mildly chastising expression he'd held earlier toward Connor. "Did you hurt anyone here?"

"You already know I didn't, Chief," Sam said easily, entering the infirmary and ignoring the flinching Simon did toward both the sleeping River and Kaylee, as well as the captain's reflexive pull and cocking of hs gun. Sam looked at the gun and chuckled lightly, looking at his father and pointedly rolling his eyes.

"You know my rules, Sam," Angel reaffirmed and Sam sighed and shook his head 'yes'. "Will you sit very still and let the doctor examine you - "

Both ignored Simon's deer-in-headlights expression. "Or will I have to hold you down and gag you?"

"The brig, again? But, sir, I was just released! I haven't gone against regulation!"

Angel sighed, "It's not that you've done anything, son, it's - "

"She looks ripe," Sam said idly, his placid face on Kaylee and the captain swore again, stepping in front of his _mei mei_ and pointing his gun directly at Sam's head. "Oh, that won't do...well, it'll make a terrible mess - I'll suffer amnesia and definitely migraines from hell, but eventually I'll be to rights."

"Samuel Aaron Lawson Angel," Angel said dangerously and, surprisingly, Sam froze, whimpering.

"Not right - not right..." Sam muttered, tears suddenly springing to his eyes and spilling over. It was only then that he got a look at River and his eyes widened. He slowly looked at Angel. "Chief?"

"Are you going to be good or do I have to put you in the brig again?"

"No...no, no - no, please?" Sam whispered, biting his lip, drawing blood, which slid down his face. Angel calmly swiped it away with his thumb, licking it off before taking hold of Sam's face and gently holding his attention.

"Are you going to let the doctor look you over and make sure the - "

"Hands of Blue, two by two, Hands - "

River stirred worriedly against the wall, her murmurs becoming the same as Sam's, "...Of Blue...Two by Two..."

"No, not that kind of doctor, Sammy, I promise. He won't poke and prod. He just fixes things gone wrong with your body - puts things back to rights. Gets everyone through this..."

"Safe and sound," Sam said softly, a relieved breath coming to him as River muttered, "Safe and sound" in a small echo and finally settled.

"Is he your first in command, sir?" Sam asked worriedly and Angel frowned, openly bothered.

"Of course not, son. You and Connor. Always. I know I promised."

"You did, very, very long ago. The world was fire and demons were in the ground and the sky and of the buildings."

"Everything was hell, I know. I...messed up again."

"No!" Sam disagreed fervently, reaching forward and gripping every inch of Angel's torso that he could reach. Angel picked him up effortlessly and placed Sam on a table. "You didn't!"

"Well, who else did? Who got Wesley killed? Who got Gunn - "

"Turned back into a man in more than just flesh. You gave of yourself. Little Brother was dead - you made them turn you back into this, into us...if not quite."

Angel was stripping Sam of his clothing and Simon was gripping his medkit as though his life depended on it, but - and this Mal noticed, as well - hadn't begun inching away from the bed. Kaylee was now awake and watched with wide eyes, but didn't seem to be horrified. Afraid, yes, but not terrified. Angel knew she saw Sam as the victim he was, so many times over.

"Which he has been," Angel said softly, glancing at her, long used to the way her eyes now widened because he knew her thoughts.

"You a reader?" Mal asked, aiming his gun at Angel again, who rolled his eyes and sighed, "Did I not say that? Did I not say I have the ability to see things that are coming and, if they're strong enough, other people's thoughts? And that I can influence the thoughts, emotions, and actions of my sons?"

"You...did..." Simon said hesitantly, afraid to look away from Sam's injuries for fear of the _vampire_ attacking him no matter what Angel said.

"Simon, how fast do you think I am?" Angel asked then, and Simon's eyes widened before he forced himself to concentrate on his work and simply answer.

"I'm not sure, sir. I've never seen - "

Angel dashed around the room, picking up the various tools and antiseptics he knew Simon would use even if he didn't need all of them, and then methodically lined them all up next to Sam's chuckling body, all of this done in a mere ten seconds - probably less.

"Eight point five, five, six seconds," Sam said with the pride of a six year old tying his shoes for the first time. "Go Chief!"

Angel mussed Sam's hair before turning to stare at the flabbergasted captain. "You should probably put that away. All of us - River, too - could have that out of your hands and you on the floor before you could so much as squeeze the trigger. No need, of course, but we could."

"He's no bad man," Sam rolled his eyes, vamping out and giggling when Simon flinched backward, exclaiming, only to be caught on the shoulder by Angel and given a slight shove back to Sam, who was now waiting patiently.

"Sam, put your face away, please, you're scaring the doctor."

"Shouldn't he learn to get used to it? Anyway, he hasn't seen Little Brother's, so this should get him nice and prepared."

"Right, nice and prepared for Connor's much less dramatic game face. _Away_, please, Samuel."

"You'd think he was ordering the kid to put somethin' he caught back outside," Mal muttered, but then Sam growled at him, fangs still apparent.

"Samuel." Angel's voice allowed no room for argument.

With another snarling noise, Sam's face receded and he froze perfectly still as Simon mustered up the courage to work on him some more.

"He's not gonna hurt ya, Simon," Kaylee said drunkenly. "His dad's there ta protect ya."

"Forgive me, Kaylee, I've never worked on vam - vampires before," Simon forced out as he examined old scars on Sam's body that seemed to be what what formed a latticework on his shoulder.

"For these to be this ingrained, given your enhanced..." Simon palpated the region and Sam hissed, but a look from Angel kept him still perfectly motionless. "There's something...embedded...in his shoulder."

Simon shut himself up and simply slathered a numbing agent onto it. Sam flinched backward, whimpering, but then Angel walked back up and took hold of Sam's face again, "Look at me. Look at me."

Sam didn't whimper again, but tears fell as Simon cut a horizontal incision into Sam's skin just above the scarred tissue and began removing it layer by very fine layer.

Simon could tell the captain was staring the whole while, but before long was only focused on the work he needed to do. Slowly, painstakingly, he alternated removing thin layers of scarring and injecting numbing agent into what remained until finally...

The captain swore liberally in Mandarin as thin wafts of black smoke drifted upward and the smell of ozone filled the infirmary.

"Oh, my God," Simon whispered, trying not to let his horror and revulsion show. Beneath the layers of what turned out to be cauterized - for lack of a better term - scar tissue, there was a set of crosses composed of various types of metals, it seemed, embedded into Sam's skin, burning him literally from the inside out for who knew how long.

Angel forced himself not to show any anger or dismay lest he upset his eldest more, but kept his face carefully blank as Simon finally suggested sedating Sam like his brother and River.

Simon removed the crosses, one by one, tossing them in the medical waste bin and feeling almost as repulsed by them as he knew his patient likely was. This wasn't the holiness the Shepherd spoke of, this was a sacrilege. These crosses were no one's protection, only someone's idea of fun. And punishment undeserved, even he could see.

"I can't have him conscious if I intend to repair this," Simon whispered as quietly as he possibly could into Angel's ear, hoping Sam was too busy whimpering to hear him.

"Leave it, his body will repair it and there won't be a scar. Now that the...now that they're gone, he'll feel better."

Simon ignored the tears he could see gathered in Angel's eyes. Angel ignored him back altogether, "Sammy, do you care to stay still while I go get your brother's jersey? I'll only be a minute."

Sam's only response was another, softer whimper, and Angel frowned, another tear trailing down his face as he finally stepped up and took hold of Sam's arms, arresting his sudden movements as he allowed Simon to sedate Sam, too.

Standing still momentarily and breathing deeply through his nose, Simon tried to calm down and Angel rather pitied him. But he had more important things to think about right now.

"I'll be right back," Angel said and before anyone could see either Mal or Simon saw where he went, he was gone.

Kaylee's eyes were wide, however, and she smiled thickly. "Whoa, he's a fast one. Like an angel...like he's got wings you just can't see."

"That's just his name, _mei mei_, Mal corrected, glaring darkly at the direction Angel had gone. "No angels on my boat."

"You're wrong, cap'n," Kaylee insisted, taking his hand. "'Cause I just saw one. He was all dark and shiny even if he didn't have wings. Not ones we could see anyhow."

Mal honestly didn't know what to say so he simply stroked Kaylee's hair until she fell back to sleep and then left the infirmary. He could crack wise to the preacher or Inara all he wanted, the fire of turmoil being stoked in his belly wouldn't be assuaged by a few untoward jokes. He hated Angel and couldn't understand why. He couldn't even bring himself to call the man out of his name and that sense of obedience scared him more than anything else. Mal obeyed no one, that was for sure.

He was the captain of this wayward ship and no one was going to steal that out from under him, not in his own mind, sure as hell not outside it.

No one.

So why was he so afraid?

_...The best of us can find happiness in misery..._

Angel snatched up Connor's discarded Los Angeles Kings jersey and shook it out, brushing off the small amount of dust that had gotten on it from its position on the floor, before turning to go back to the infirmary.

Captain Reynolds was standing in his way and suddenly Angel could remember with the clarity of a church bell the day he left his family's home forever.

_You'll want to move away from the door now, Father._

Shaking his head, Angel frowned and stared at Mal, the first vestiges of anger seeping into his face and tone. "Move."

"See, here's where I think you have things a little backward," Mal said, pointedly stepping into their haphazardly messy suite and folding his arms as he tried to act like the fact that he couldn't meet Angel's eyes was his own doing.

"This is my ship and on my ship the only one givin' out orders and havin' 'em followed would be me. I told you that when you got on and I don't see a reason in the 'verse why I should do a thing you say, _vampire_ or no."

Angel's face closed even further and he stepped forward only to have Mal diverge into his path. Even now, he could feel the man shaking, but slightly. He admired Mal's courage even as it pissed him off.

"You don't want to go down this road with me, boy," Angel said calmly, and Mal blinked, shocked and even frightened as, inward of his own head, he heard those very words issuing from his own mouth, only he was speaking to Dr. Tam..._Simon_...

_Go through it, but don't ever expect ter come back!_

Mal resisted the urge to yell with everything he had in him. "You an' yours got on and in less than a day's time have turned my boat inside out. I should leave you lay and..."

Mal froze. He was saying his own words again (this time, to Shepherd Book...elsewhere...) and it made his skin crawl.

He looked again at Angel, who was still staring at him, his face closed, blank, clutching the jersey. "Demon."

Angel actually froze and then looked upward, "Are you happy, Cordy? Buffy? I actually have a reason to say it!"

He looked back down at Mal Reynolds and said pointedly, "Duh, dumbass. I've only been telling you as much. But that's not your worry, as you like to say. I'm a Seer. I've been one all my life, even when I was a normal human - "

"So you _are_ human - "

"I'm talking."

"My ship! My crew!"

"You have them. You'll have them as long as you need."

"Stop talking in riddles!"

"Stop being obtuse."

Mal was breathing heavily now, just _itching_ to punch this _hyun dan_ in the mouth so hard he couldn't say another word as long as he was on Mal's boat...but he couldn't.

"Who the hell are you?" Mal snarled in a low voice. "Bad enough I got an Alliance Fed trussed up somewhere on my ship, bad enough I got a bunch of strays makin' trouble I don't need - you're not even all human and I'm just supposed to - "

"I believe the technical term is many-times great-grandfather," Angel sighed, leaving Mal blinking before backpedaling.

"I - no way in Hell."

Angel gave a little laugh, chased by a sardonic smile, "Funny you should phrase it like that."

"What the hell are you - "

"Short version: I wasn't exactly a monk during my first human years. Far from it, though I believed deeply - never stopped, hence my anger. I hated that God would reject me in such a way as to let me become what I did, that the very way of life I _loved_ - something my father never believed about me, but I don't care to go into religious semantics - would reject me so. If God truly felt me an aberration, then I was going to be that aberration, in His Holy Name, I decided.

"My logic wasn't exactly sound. You don't really get sound logic out of a demon, but I've always had an obsession with love...different targets, but my feelings have never wavered in their strength. I can't help but do three things: protect, love, or destroy, depending on whom I'm directing those feelings or actions toward. Anyway, I thought I'd slaughtered the entire village, taken care of everything that had reminded me of my whole life there...but I was wrong."

Mal couldn't stop staring. His anger and fury over Kaylee had been shoved into a backseat and he hated it, but he couldn't stop listening.

"It was customary back then and even into the mid-twentieth century to send women who'd been unchaste or even raped to convents. I've always found that disgusting, but as much as everyone likes to make of the power of one, the power of many still takes precedence in most cases, including one such as that.

"Popular opinion brands the girl a whore and she's punished for something she wanted equal or no part in and the male party gets off scot-free. As it turned out, your many-greats-grandmother was one of those unfortunate women. They were made to do hard labor and never allowed to see their children, who were either adopted out or raised by friends of the family elsewhere.

"My last argument with my father was about Cara. I..." Angel breathed deeply, anger smoldering in his eyes even at events so long past. "Her family blamed her for 'letting me defile' her; I wanted to marry her, but her father hated me and wouldn't allow it, especially after finding out she was with - carrying my child. That sent him over reason's edge. The tragedy of his daughter bearing my child was something he couldn't abide. I begged my father to try to do something to stop it. He said I needed to learn my lesson once and for all and, maybe, seeing the 'true' - "

And here Angel's face became livid with anger and Mal felt his breath hitch. "_Consequences_ of my actions might teach me to fetter myself and my _ungodly_ urges in the future, lest it happen to another girl. In the end, I left, but I was too late - she was gone, sent away, and I was never even allowed to see my child. My - well, they weren't my friends, but I didn'..."

Mal could hear a strange accent leaking slowly into Angel's voice the longer he spoke, but his head was too full of what he was learning to comment on it or much of anything.

"Anyway, they couldn' understan' why I cared so much abou' 'er fate - she was just a woman after all an' what were they, really, but little more' horses in most peoples' minds. I hurt so badly I drank all o' me money away, but...I coul' see, even then. I've always dreamt o' things. Me mate did the same, bu' that was connected ter her Callin'. She weren' a Seer such as me an' me mam befer me - she died, just like me father's first family all died...he thought himself a walkin' sin just as he taught me.

Angel laughed sadly, "An' me, o' course. Another thing me father felt was some sin 'e'd earned. Me whole existence. Devil's child, they called me. I almos' wasn' even Christened. Damned, they felt me. I begged God's fergiveness. I canno' describe the pain. Then again, I don't have ter describe it ter ye, do I? That seperation..."

Mal felt that same strange lance of pain shoot through him as had on Serenity when he'd watched those airships launching. As had taken over as he watched near everyone under his command die...except Zoe. Clenching his eyes shut and pulling them open again, he gritted his teeth at Angel, but the man wasn't watching him just then.

Angel snapped out of the faraway expression that had taken over his face, but the change in his voice was still there, "I don' know what happened after that - her name was Cara, before ye ask, the Irish fer 'friend', but a name, as well - but it saved her from me an' what I became. An' her misfortune o' being sent ter hard labor an' destitution o' sorts actually kept her alive.

"I don' know if we had a daughter or a son...all I know is down an' down the line went somehow an' finally, here, five hundred an' seventy-five years later, even now...yer blood calls ter mine. Because it be mine. It sings. You be o' me blood, just as me sons're - I suppose ye're wondering why ye react ter me the way ye do. It's not yer fault."

Mal was staring at _Angel_, his very soul tingling with the truth of Angel's words despite his not wanting to believe them.

"You're goin' out my airlock," he whispered, unable to yell and walk away like he desperately wanted to.

"Do you really think so?" Angel asked calmly, sighing in his own mind.

"Right now," Mal forced out, but it wasn't nearly as resolute as he usually sounded.

"I'm going to give the son I do have back his jersey," Angel countered, his voice back to normal. "Then you might want to check on Mr. Dobbs. He'd do anything to get free and turn this whole crew in for anything he can think of."

Mal's eyes widened and then he raked his hand through his hair. "You and me ain't finished with this."

"Duh, little one," Angel said softly again, this time with a very slight smile. "I'd tell you in Irish, but you'd never understand me. That's pointless at the moment, though. Pain is scary and Jayne is of the same mind - for now. I'll give my son his jersey and then..."

A very dangerous smile grew on Angel's face and Mal found himself torn again. He wanted to step away, he wanted to join Angel and Jayne in their torture. "You go to your _mei-mei_. She needs you. But first...show me to our Mr. Dobbs."

Mal would never admit this to anyone, but at that particular time he was glad of this inability to disobey.

_...Say my name and hiss in the same breath - I dare you to say they taste the same..._

...TBC...


End file.
